Fair
by ErisandDysnomia
Summary: "Carl had allowed himself to feel like things weren't fair. He figured that after losing his best friend, who kind of made his stomach twist and turn when she smiled right at him, and being shot on accident, well...It was fair to think things were unfair"


**Author's Note: Oh man, I've got a fic in mind for Shane, Lori, Carol and Daryl too. I just need to get these out before I move on! Bear with me! I've never tried writing a fic from Carl's POV before! So let me know how I do please! Sorry it's short, but I think it got my point across! Let me know what you think! Too old for his years?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD!**

Fair

Carl was only twelve, but he felt much older. And the longer he survived, the more he felt like he was really understanding the world. He'd seen what this world did to his Dad. His dad didn't smile much anymore, and he was even more distant than before. When he was in school, and he'd listened to the way that the other kids talked about their dads, he knew something was wrong. His dad was never around like the other kids'…but he'd just considered that was normal. Uncle Shane was never around much either. Cops just worked weird hours, but the older he got, the more he realized that his dad had a hard time connecting emotionally.

And that had been before. Now, his dad never smiled. Ever. He just wasn't happy anymore, and why would he be? Everyone expected a lot from his dad, and he knew that his dad didn't really like that. For someone who didn't talk, his dad sure did wear his heart on his sleeve. And Carl just knew, because he was his dad, that he was getting really tired of being in charge.

It wasn't fair.

It changed his mom too, she was always on edge. His mom was tough, and he knew that. He'd heard his dad and Uncle Shane talk about that one more than one occasion. She was tough, but now, it was harder for her to do that. Besides, she was more focused on the people than she was the Walkers. She kept up with the people and tried to ignore the danger. That's why his mom and his dad still get into fights, they just weren't on the same page anymore. And they seemed to forget that he could understand why they were fighting. He wasn't nine anymore, he was twelve. And he could understand everything that they argued about.

It wasn't fair.

But life wasn't fair, he known that for a while. That's what the bullies in school had told him before the world changed. And he knew that. His parents fought all the time, school was hard to deal with, his dad was never home, and his mom was always mad. Life wasn't fair. Carl had accepted that, and figured that it was going to be like that always. Things would always sort of suck, but there would be good to come out of it too. When his dad was home, they usually had Uncle Shane over for dinner, and it would be fun. Him and his dad would talk about high school, and his mom would roll her eyes and try to hide her smile. They were a happy family, really they were. They just had a few problems.

He missed those problems. Where his mom and dad just fought. He'd give almost everything to go back to that. To the really tense dinners and mornings where all he'd see of his dad was a pair of shoes by the door, or maybe a hat on the rack. Carl missed those days, more than he could possibly imagine.

He thought that being ripped from everything he'd ever known was unfair. It had been too, nothing about that had been right. He'd gone from a normal day full of chores and school and homework, to a father in a coma, and then the dead walking around. That had been unfair. That wasn't right. It was something that would never be right, no matter how unfair life was. People who died, should stay dead.

It wasn't fair.

Carl had allowed himself to feel like things weren't fair. He figured that after losing his best friend, who kind of made his stomach twist and turn when she smiled right at him, and being shot on accident, well ironically he found _fair_ to let himself think that thing are _unfair_ right now.

But that had been in the three seconds before Sophia had made her way out of the barn.

She looked different, sure. But she still looked like Sophia, and she was still pretty to him. Because Sophia had been pretty, in a scared kind of way. She had reminded him of a bunny rabbit, she was cute, but once she caught you looking, she'd run away.

That's how he knew this Sophia wasn't his Sophia. Because for a split second, she caught his eyes, and she didn't look away.

It wasn't fair.

Sophia was gone.

It wasn't fair.

She was gone, and she wouldn't be coming back. No matter how hard Mrs. Peletier cried, or how hard Mr. Dixon looked, Sophia wouldn't come back.

He survived.

Sophia didn't.

It wasn't fair.

Carl couldn't rip his eyes away from her. It didn't seem real, watching her stumble towards the group of them. Everything slowed down, and his vision blurred, either from the heat, or from the tears that flooded his eyes. Sophia was _dead_. No, no she wasn't. she couldn't get that lucky.

It wasn't _fair_!

Sophia's life had been hard, he knew that from the way Mrs. Peletier moved around her husband when he'd been alive, and he knew that from the way Sophia shrunk into herself. He was observant, he was a lot like his dad.

"Carl. Don't look." His mother spoke, her own tears traveling down her face. But how could he turn away. Sophia was about to get shot, and she wasn't going to wake up for it. Not like he did. He had people for him though, his mom and his dad and his Uncle Shane. They did everything they could for Carl, no matter what. When it came down to it, Sophia really only had Mr. Dixon on her side those last few days. Maybe it was the 'out of sight, out of mind' thing, or maybe it was because she was a kid out in the woods by herself, but everyone had given up on her.

They left her out in the woods, and she'd been found by a Walker, who had taken his best friend from him. While he laid in a comfortable bed, and gotten treated by a doctor, Sophia had been bitten. She had been done for a long while.

And nothing would change that. Not the bullet to the head she was going to get, not the wounds Mr. Dixon had gotten when he was out scouring the woods for her, and not the tears that fell from Mrs. Peletier's face. Sophia was gone, and when she'd died, she'd been alone. Lost, scared and alone.

It wasn't fair.


End file.
